


Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

by Dirthera



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Because yeah the campaign ended but my love for them did not, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Pining, giving these wlw the happy ending they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirthera/pseuds/Dirthera
Summary: The goliath formerly known as Blu rots in the governor-general's dungeon for nine weeks, her hope gone and her spirit broken. She's made her peace with the fact that she'll never get to tell her best friend, the halfling El, how she really feels about her.Said halfling never stopped planning her jailbreak.
Relationships: original halfling character/original goliath character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Ruin Our Friendship (We Should Be Lovers Instead)

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Jenny by the Studio Killers on repeat and realized I did actually have to write this. Rae, I love you, thank you for making El, and for being so up for a post-campaign love story finally finalized. Blu and El deserve all the best.  
> The Bloodweaver is the goliath's nickname from back home, one she never felt fit. El, upon meeting her, gave her the name Blu as an alternative. Blu is the name she used all throughout their friendship, up until her arrest at the hands of the governor-general of Wraithkeep, aided by Illyrian, a man she counted among her friends.

The goliath known as The Bloodweaver sits in her cell. It is empty, and she is grateful. Not like the first week, when she shared it with Illyrian, the man she counted as a friend, believing them to be prisoners both. Not like the first week, taking the pain their captors were inflicting on her and living with it, but seeing him hurt and breaking. Not like the first week, her heart taken advantage of, her compassion for a man she called friend abused and broken.

No, this is the ninth week. He has long since moved on to other duties, though only after she figured out their ruse, why his eyes lit up every time she gave in, every time she protected him by giving information, praying that it wouldn’t be enough to give her friends away. Not a light of relief, but a light of interest, of attentiveness.

A light of treason.

She is alone now.

She has been for a long time. By all accounts, she will be for longer.

The Bloodweaver is far too big for the cell she is kept in, her goliath stature not taken into account when they built this place. Not that her captors would take her comfort into consideration. The government of Wraithkeep wanted information, and she could provide that better if she were desperate to leave.

Too bad for them the desperation departed around week three, hand in hand with hope.

* * *

The Bloodweaver is weak with hurt and fatigue when the door opens next, and as it does, she shrinks against the wall. Her almost 8 foot stature, fearsome muscles, the visage that had made her feared despite her careful disposition, all of it cowers in the corner, afraid of what is to come.

The light from the hallway beyond is blinding, brighter than usual. The Bloodweaver immediately pulls her arms up to her face, in part to protect herself from a potential strike, in part to protect her eyes from the sudden light. She doesn’t know who is approaching. Whether it is the rare event of a guard bringing her a meal or something more sinister.

She has grown to expect the more sinister.

A blow never comes. She hears a choke from somewhere in front of her, and as she lowers her arms, she sees what she had spent two weeks hoping for, and then never allowed herself to imagine again.

A halfling is standing in front of her, face open and worried, something shimmering in her eye.

«Blu.» Her voice cuts through the haze, and The Bloodweaver, no, _Blu_ , drinks in the face in front of her, the one she had come to peace with never seeing again.

El. 

* * *

_She manages to launch the avian form of the druid Aldeia into the air, seeing her fly upward and mingle with a flock, escaping the view of the governor-general and his guards, and throws her eyes up to the forms of Thomas and El on the roof of a neighbouring building._

_El is perched on the human’s shoulders, and as Blu makes eye contact with the halfling, her heart jumps into her throat as understanding washes over her._

_That understanding is turned into reality as she is knocked to the ground, and a moment later her joints lock up, her movement prevented as she feels magic wash over her. This is not the magic she has felt El endow her with, the kind that fills her with power, with inspiration. This is a fouler magic, one she has no way of resisting, as it is cast and recast, redundancies to make sure the goliath stays on the ground._

_And stay on the ground she does, feeling like vines have grown from the ground to ensnare her. From the corner of her eye, she sees El mouth a few words, eyes wide in fear, though not wavering from Blu’s until Thomas steps through the portal she created, and the two of them disappear._

_El is gone._

_El is safe._

_Another wave hits her._

_She’ll never see El again._

_The governor-general approaches, but Blu’s mind is occupied, the fear of what is to come from his end is nothing to the fear of never being able to tell El…_

_She was never going to tell El. El seemed happy enough without Blu there to keep her down. And yet, now that the possibility has been yanked out from under her, she feels desperately in her soul…_

_El will never know what she means to Blu._

_El will never know how Blu feels._

_Even if it was never meant to be them, didn’t she at least deserve that? The enigma she had fallen in love with, didn’t she deserve to know that’s what Blu had done?_

_The governor-general towers over her, looking down at her paralyzed form. “Blu, is it?”_

_Blu can’t speak, can barely breathe, as he looks down at her._

_“Tell me where they’re going.” He waves a hand at the war mages at his back, and she feels the paralyzation of her head fall, enough that she can speak._

_She shuts her eyes tight, breathes deep, and opens them again. Then she spits in his face._

_* * *_

In a moment, El’s hands are on her, cradling her cheek, and Blu almost cries from the softness of the touch. A tenderness she hasn’t felt in months, that she had steeled herself against missing, and now it’s here, and it’s _El_ , and it’s almost too much. It’s almost enough for her to break down right then.

“We have to go,” a voice from behind El urges, and although Blu doesn’t recognize it, she recognizes the wisdom in the words. “It won’t be long before they notice the mess we made coming in.”

El gives Blu a final look over before steeling herself, looking over the motley group of people now crammed into the small cell, saying a few words in a language Blu cannot understand, and through it all, there is a small hand resting on Blu’s wide shoulder. Even that small point of contact is enough for Blu’s chest to shake.

A moment later, the room disappears from view, and they are on a ship. Blu doesn’t quite recognize the place, but can hazard a guess that it’s Thomas’ old galleon.

She can’t quite believe she’s out of the cell.

She must have zoned out, frozen in shock, because the next thing she knows, a second hand joins the first, before moving to Blu’s face.

“Blu?”

She opens her eyes again, and the stateroom is empty but for herself and the halfling she never thought she’d see again.

“Damn, I never thought I’d see you again,” the halfling remarks, the rough cockney of her accent more familiar to Blu than her own voice, and something she hadn’t let herself realize she missed. She could listen to that voice forever. She wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of Blu’s mouth, quiet and gentle, but her friend looks bordering on angry at that.

“No. Shut up.”

There’s a pause. “Thank you.”

El smiles. “Better.”

Blu rises to her feet slowly, testing out her limbs, feeling the soreness where the skin pulls at barely-healed wounds, the ache when she puts weight on her recently broken left leg. She hasn’t stretched in so long, hasn’t had the space.

When she looks down again, El is regarding her with that unreadable face, the one she has seen so many times, and Blu remembers how it felt to be sure she would never see her best friend ever again, everything she regretted not saying.

It became a wellspring spilling from her throat, and she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“El,” she starts, and her voice is so low, so gentle, and it feels strange. She spent so long not speaking, making no noise but pained grunts, held back screams. But this is the voice she used the first time she spoke to El, soothing her in that dragon pit. This is the voice she used the first time she told El a joke. This is the voice she used the first time she sang El a song from Thebias.

This is the voice El has always heard. The soft giant. The goliath who could never manage to be anything but gentle.

“I need to tell you something.” It sounds like confession.

El is silent, waiting, giving Blu the space to speak. Her heart is in her throat, perhaps that is the source of the wellspring? It’s flowing. She knows she has to shape it carefully.

“I should have told you before, but you were... things seemed good with Thomas and I didn’t want..” She chokes a bit, her hands shake, and she clasps them together in front of her, holding her breath for a moment. “You don’t have to feel it back. I just want you to know. Because I’m selfish and I just… can’t go on without you knowing. I realized, when they… that I wouldn’t get to say it. That you would never hear it. And it’s selfish of me, but that…”

She takes a big gulp of air, before continuing in a great big rush. “I love you. And I know I said it before, but I didn’t say it right. I love you. I _love_ you. I have for a while.”

The silence stretches for a moment, and El is unreadable. She usually is. Blu has never been good at reading people, and El is better at hiding than most.

“I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to feel it back. You’re my best friend. I’m content with that.”

El’s mouth twists up in a slight grin, and she finally opens her mouth to speak. It’s not the reaction Blu was expecting. Not _any_ of the reactions Blu was expecting.

“You know what the worst part of bein’ this small is?”

Blu’s brow furrows in confusion, and she shakes her head, heart still stuck in her throat.

El’s smile widens. “Makes it hard to kiss you.”

Blu wastes no time falling to her knees, leaning down so her face is close to the halfling’s, uncertain and afraid and in shock, not daring to make a move. El doesn’t seem to mind, taking charge, as she seems so used to doing.

Their foreheads touch, and Blu melts into the feeling of closeness, of intimacy, of their faces so close she can feel El’s breath caress her lips. A small hand settles on her cheek, and she leans into the touch, soft and gentle and new and _warm_.

Another moment passes, and El moves closer, their lips brushing together.

Blu is still for a moment as El kisses her, frozen in place, overwhelmed, cheek slightly wet, before she reciprocates, a large hand gently cradling El’s head as she pulls her closer, pulls her deeper.

Seconds were minutes, hours, the space between heartbeats and eons. And through it all, it was just them. The two of them, gentle goliath and fierce halfling, alone in the universe.

Only them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna cry they're soft!!!!!


End file.
